


Apodyopsis

by Chifuyu



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Hannibal is a little shit, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Will is thirsty as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:52:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5868277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chifuyu/pseuds/Chifuyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will doesn’t know why he picks up the receiver, doesn’t dwell on it either. There are too many implications, too many uncomfortable truths he isn’t ready to face yet.</p><p>He doesn’t think at all when he dials the number of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Will has committed the number to memory, despite never having made a call before. Something else he would rather not look at too closely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apodyopsis

**Author's Note:**

> This piece of gay filth is for [saur0nite](https://twitter.com/sauronite) who made a tweet requesting Hannigram phone sex. I was happy to oblige.
> 
> Thanks again to my lovely beta [Universally Speaking](https://twitter.com/Lorna_316) who makes my jumbled writing readable. You're the best!

He doesn’t know why he picks up the receiver, doesn’t dwell on it either. There are too many implications, too many uncomfortable truths he isn’t ready to face yet.

He doesn’t think at all when he dials the number of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Will has committed the number to memory, despite never having made a call before. Something else he would rather not look at too closely.

It should alarm him how calm he sounds when he requests an interview with Dr. Hannibal Lecter, claiming to work for a national newspaper interested in Dr. Lecter’s opinion on the Tooth Fairy murders. After all, sick minds think alike, he quips on the phone, making the woman on the other end laugh. She buys it and Will has no time to ponder whose mind he was joking about before an obnoxious jingle interrupts his pointless musings and he realizes that he has been put on hold.

For a split second, he considers slamming the receiver down to end the call before it begins, pretending that he didn’t make it at all and drown any unbidden thoughts with a bottle of scotch. He doesn’t, even if it would’ve been the reasonable thing to do.

The godforsaken jingle roars in his ears, in perfect harmony with the beating of his heart. And where he was so calm just seconds ago, he now feels anxiety crawling up his throat. His hands are sweaty, clinging to the receiver and the smooth blanket underneath him respectively.

“Hello?”

Will bites down on his tongue until he can taste blood, closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose. The silence stretches on and he finds himself at a loss for words. Hannibal has always been a patient man though and Will is grateful for it. God knows there are few things in life he can be grateful for.

“Dr. Lecter.” The name feels disturbingly intimate on his tongue, even though it lacks the familiarity of a given name.

There is not an ounce of surprise in Hannibal’s voice when he answers and Will doesn’t bother to try and quench the spark of resentment igniting in his chest at the displayed aloofness.

“Three years” Hannibal says, voice heavy with affection. “For three years you have refused to reply to my letters - burned them I presume. You haven’t come to see me, not even to gloat. But now, with the threat of the Tooth Fairy looming over the heads of every family in this country, like the sword of Damocles, I find you not only standing before my vitreous cage, asking for my advice, but also seeking my company in this peculiar way. Have you grown tired of your wife and her child so quickly?”

Will snorts and looks up at the gray ceiling of his motel room. Spindly cracks run through the concrete like veins of gold hidden deep inside the bowels of a mountain; nothing like the heavy ledgers back in Maine.

“Cheap, Dr. Lecter. Was that supposed to upset me? It takes more than that. To be honest, I expected more.”

Hannibal is silent, just for a moment, and Will counts it as a victory, small as it might be.

“What did you expect when calling me, Will?”

It’s a good question and one Will isn’t keen on answering. He does it only because there’s no point in trying to lie to Hannibal.

“I wonder myself. The voice inside my head, it still sounds like you. Maybe I wanted to hear the real thing to convince myself you’re still where you belong and the voice inside me is just a weak echo from the past, bound to fade away into nothingness sooner or later.”

“You don’t want it to fade away though. That’s why you called. You wanted to hear my voice to convince yourself that I’m real and not just a conjuration of your feverish mind.”

“A fever you have nourished and cultivated, doctor.”

“Indeed”, Hannibal admits without remorse. “I still remember the sweet smell of disease on your skin.”

A small pause before Hannibal continues, his voice laced with amusement.

“May I ask what you told poor Ms. Hubert concerning the reasons for your call?”

Will raises a brow, surprised at the sudden change of topic. “I told her I’m a reporter.”

“That would explain the horrified looks nurse Barkin is throwing my way. I fear she now assumes I’m engaging in a lewd conversation with one of my admirers.”

“You have admirers?”

“Plenty. None I’d engage in such activities with.”

Will laughs despite himself, dragging his hand down his face in exasperation. Talking to Hannibal has always been too easy, too comfortable, and he feels himself starting to enjoy this call and the absurdity of it all.

“Nurse Barkin thinks differently”, he argues and licks over his chapped lips.

“You’re not a mindless admirer, Will. She’s wrong at least on that account.”

Hannibal’s voice is light, playful with an underlying edge that sends a shiver tingling down the length of Will’s spine.

“But she’s not wrong in assuming this is a lewd conversation?”

“Not at all. It was no lie when I said I still remember the smell of your skin, the sweet, feverish tang hidden underneath a layer of that atrocious aftershave and the distinctive odor of dogs.”

Will isn’t insulted. He’s long past such pettiness when it comes to Hannibal Lecter.

“Am I supposed to be charmed, doctor? Once more I find myself disappointed”, he says, his fingers playing with the hem of his plaid shirt.

Will hears himself talk, hears the words as they leave him in a teasing purr and wishes he would’ve emptied the bottle of cheap scotch stashed in the mini bar before picking up the phone. He couldn’t have been held responsible for the words spilling past his lips then.

“Do you wish to be seduced, Will?”

Will sucks the air in between his teeth and swallows a gasp. He doesn’t dare to reply, unwilling to acknowledge Hannibal’s words and give voice to the unmentionable. His silence is taken as affirmation regardless and Hannibal’s gentle hum resonates in Will’s bones.

“Do you still dream of your hands around my throat, Will?”

He hesitates but briefly.

“…every night.”

Will isn’t stupid. This is a game for Hannibal, an opportunity to escape the dull monotony of his restricted prison for a little while. No books, no brushes and pens, no supervised cooking can change it: Hannibal is a caged animal, yearning for freedom, and Will offers him a chance to catch a glimpse of it.

He plays along, for now.

“Does it excite you to imagine me writhing underneath you in your dreams, struggling and at your mercy?” Hannibal asks.

“Yes…” Will breathes, hating how his voice trembles.

“Are you excited right now?”

It’s a loaded question. They both know he is. Will is only in his shirt and loose fitting boxers that are already too tight for comfort. He’s half-hard, just from a few whispered words.

He doesn’t want to think about how the prospect of killing Hannibal Lecter with his bare hands is enough to have him stiff and leaking. And he makes sure not to think about Molly when he sticks a hand down his pants and curls his fingers around his dick.

“How much more exciting would it be seeing me choke on your cock?”

Will groans and tightens the hold he has on his erection. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before - Molly is vocal and outgoing in bed - but to hear Hannibal of all people utter these words with such nonchalance, causes his legs to tremble and his cock to twitch.

“Do you imagine it, Will? My face between your thighs?”

He squeezes his eyes shut, tight enough to see stars dancing behind his lids and stifles a moan. Common sense and reason are long forgotten as he tugs at his boxers to pull them down and fling them off the bed with an impatient kick. He curses softly underneath his breath, lamenting the lack of lube, before he parts his legs. Lube would have made the slide easier. As it stands, he can do little more than spread more precum on his cock while he jerks himself to the sound of Hannibal’s voice.

“I would gag, Will. I have seen your naked body. It’s quite the impressive sight.”

A whimper curls its way up Will’s throat and he throws his head to the side, pressing his face into the pillow in a desperate attempt to smother the embarrassing sound.

Hannibal shows no mercy, his voice lures him in, brings him ever closer to the edge. “Am I correct in assuming you’re on your back? Turn around. Get on your knees.”

Will obeys without protest, his hand never leaving his cock. He almost slips on the cheap polyester sheets twice, but manages to get into position. With one hand between his legs and the other holding onto the phone he has no choice but to press the side of his face into the pillow underneath him. He spreads his legs wider to keep his balance and continues to jerk himself. The position leaves him exposed, vulnerable, and Will has no doubt this was Hannibal’s intention all along.

“Does the thought of me on my hands and knees excite you, doctor?” he purrs into the receiver.

He doesn’t bother to suppress the needy sounds slipping past his mouth anymore and Hannibal answers with a breathy chuckle of his own.

“Certainly. A pity I’m deprived of not only your sight and smell, but of your taste as well. I can merely listen to your desperate moans and the slick slide of your hand on your cock.”

Will feels his dick twitch in his hand, squirting precum over the sheets and his own shirt. He probably should have taken it off. Now he’s too far gone to bring himself to care about anything else but the warmth spreading in his belly and the tight pressure in his balls. He’s sweaty, his hair sticking in curls to his forehead and he feels oh so filthy.

For a moment, he allows himself to imagine the scenario Hannibal has described: him on his knees, gagging on Will’s cock as he shoves down Hannibal’s throat deep enough to bring him to tears.

“Oh God…”

He presses the phone between his face and shoulder, using his now free hand to tug at his balls. It’s embarrassing how close he is to orgasm and he knows, just knows that he will hate himself come the next morning. Yet the knowledge doesn’t make him move his hand any slower.

“Is–is the nurse still with you?” he asks, while rubbing his thumb over the wet slit of his cock head.

“She is.” Hannibal sounds breathy, less controlled and his accent is much stronger now. “And she is less than pleased.”

Will moans and thrusts into his own hand with an urgency bordering on desperation.

“The hospital-issued jumpsuit can only hide so much after all.” Hannibal all but purrs.

“Fuck!” Will swears.

The mental image of Hannibal with an erection poorly concealed by his jumpsuit, an erection he can do nothing about, because of the nurse who watches his every move from the other side of the glass wall, is enough to push Will to the brink of wanton insanity.

“As pleasant as it has been, I fear this call will be cut short soon. You should hurry, I wouldn’t want to miss hearing the - without doubt - lovely sounds you make as you reach completion.”

“Doctor…” Will is reduced to a grunting and whimpering mess, his cock so hard it’s bordering on being painful. It would take so little to make him lose himself. One more word, just one more word from those sinuous lips.

“Come.”

And Will does. He cums all over his hand and the sheets, thick spurts that stain the fabric irrevocably. Will doesn’t care. He’s floating in a sea of bliss, at least for one glorious moment, consequences be damned.

He falls back into the bed with a huff, the sticky patch of his cum warm against his belly. It won’t be long until he comes down from his current high. Shame will settle in, accompanied by dread and a sense of humiliation. Will knows all this and more, but when he takes the phone back into his hand and presses it to his ear, he laughs.

“Damn you, Hannibal. Damn you to hell.”


End file.
